Aftermath
by Brittany Lynne Hobbs
Summary: What if Light didn't die? Instead of dying, Light is brought in and convicted. Not sent to prison, but to a psychiatric hospital. The mere memory of L isn't the only thing haunting him anymore, either; it's a full-blown hallucination. The line between what's real and what isn't becomes blurred, as well as what's memory and what's fabricated by his own delusions.
1. Prologue

"_Guilty on all charges!"_

The declaration echoed through the court room, causing Light Yagami to scowl in disgust. These people were incompetent, unintelligent; they didn't understand what they were doing. They had followed their precious Kira into the dark like blind sheep, and then turned on him as soon as his identity was revealed. What loyalty was this? Just three days prior to Light's hearing, the whole nation, even a majority of the world, had worshiped Kira—worshipped him—as a god! Now they were ready to convict him just as quickly. Everyone had obeyed him, taken his words as the law, taken them as truth, now they discarded them as if they never held any meaning to begin with.

There was another hearing one week later to determine Light's conviction. The death penalty was the first option presented, though some tried for a life sentence in a prison. Neither of these fell through, one much worse did; Light was destined to rot in a psychiatric rehabilitation facility for the rest of his living years. Ryuk sat in the back of the court room, laughing. He had almost been tempted to write Light's name in his own Death Note as he had promised so many years ago, though returning to the Shinigami realm was a boring prospect. Why not observe Light in this institution?

Light was sentenced to the rehabilitation center, and taken away. Not two minutes after he left the court room did the judge move onto his next case. First degree robbery. In the same time slot, one judge could simply transgress from Kira, a world renowned serial killer, to a petty thief. Kira was no longer the law, and Light wasn't the god of his new world. He was a sick man being sent to a life of therapy sessions, bed checks, and antipsychotics. He wondered briefly what his late father would have thought of this turn of events.

"_He had so much faith in me. He never suspected me. Misplaced trust. L never knew just how right he was."_

L. One letter, hardly even amounting to a single syllable, but to Light, it was one letter that brought back bittersweet memories. Light wasn't an overly emotional creature; he had used people and gotten rid of them just as easily during his reign as Kira, from Misa to his own father. People were to be used; concern was all feigned in hopes of reaching your own goals. Not L. L was an odd exception to the rule, L brought something out in him that he couldn't bear. Something that made his skin crawl.

Genuine emotion.

But Light couldn't tolerate that. L's death brought relief to his impending suspicion on the Kira case, but it had also brought sadness to the, at the time, seventeen year old boy. He'd actually developed feelings for the being called L, and it was a concept so foreign to him that he couldn't handle it. So the source of this discomfort and confusion had to be eliminated by means of scrawling his name upon one of the pages of the Death Note, of course, it has been Rem that carried the deed out, not Light.

So that brought him to where he was now; currently in the processing office of the state psychiatric hospital. What was going to happen to him? Was he going to end up bunking with someone who was far crazier than him, or end up in a strait-jacket, locked up in his own padded cell for the rest of his physical life? Light tuned out the hushed voices in the office, he didn't want to hear them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to him. Though he was quickly snapped out of his daze when a strong hand jerked his shoulder, pulling him up out of his chair, "Yagami, we've settled your papers. Time to get you settled in your new home." The man said. Light looked up at the owner of the hand; a tall, dark-haired man with thick-rimmed glasses; his lawyer. Lowest of the low, the only one that would dare to try and defend the infamous Kira.

Light followed the man down an empty corridor, until he was handed off to a set of orderlies. His lawyer walked back down the hall, not so much as one more word out of him as he left. Light didn't care, though. In all honesty, he wished he could kill him. But that power was no longer in his hands.

Light was ordered to strip down and remove everything, his watch as well. Odds are it would end up with the police force before the week was out. The nurses gave him the standard clothing for the institution; white shirt, black pants. No zippers, buttons, cords, anything that could be used as a weapon against someone else or oneself should the patient choose.

While one nurse handled sorting Light's belongings, the other took him away and led him down a hall. He wasn't going to be put into a room with someone else, not until he was evaluated and assessed. He was going to stay the night in a solitary room. The nurse held the door open and gestured for him to walk in, "There's a call button on the back wall. If you need anything, press it, but do so sparingly. Don't waste the time of our staff just because you get 'bored.'" She said, lacing the word with all the disgust she could manage

Light gave no acknowledgement to the woman, simple entering the room, position stationary to the center of the room. It was bare as bare could be; sterile white walls, no windows, one light behind treated glass, and a mattress with two blankets on the floor. Solitary was no desired, but solitary was _safe_. And for Kira of all people, it was the only way they could house him until a doctor could give a thorough assessment.

The nurse sighed in frustration, "You're scheduled for an introductory session with the doctor in the morning at eight. Just comply and you'll do fine." She said, closing the door and locking it. Light dropped down on the mattress; this vow-of-silence act wasn't going to last him long in here. In fact, it might even make things worse for him in the long run. But he didn't care; what did he possibly have to live for now? No family, no fiancée, not even L. Most of all, not L.

The only thing he had to look forward to was therapy sessions and pills rammed down his throat for the rest of his life. Maybe suicide would be fun. He already knew, based on Ryuk's words, a user of the Death Note would go to neither heaven nor hell. Suicide might prove interesting; to see what else was out there. He hadn't believed in much before this to begin with, until there came a Shinigami to believe in.

How had his life changed so quickly? Six years ago, he had been Japan's brightest student, with all the hopes in the world of going to college and joining the police force in hopes of following in his father's footsteps. Then came the notebook that transformed him into the very criminal he'd one day thought he would be chasing. Oh, how quickly the tables had turned on him. Now this is where he was; a mental ward in Japan, on the conviction of mass murder and mental instability.

In the corner, Ryuk laughed.


	2. The Session

The next morning, Light was awoken at seven-thirty, given a chance to shower and change clothes, and then quickly taken to a secluded office on the far end of the facility. Damp hair still hung in his eyes and handcuffs bound his wrists, but all of his distress was mental. Any physical issues were of no concern to the man. Two large male nurses lead him to the office and sat him down in a small waiting room. "The doctor will be with you shortly." He was told, and instructed to wait patiently.

Light looked down at the steel bracelets embracing his wrists, sighing; it wasn't that long ago that he was wearing a similar set with L on the other end of them. No, don't think like that! He shook his head, trying to shake the memory, the nostalgia, but it proved futile. Light wasn't used to feeling emotion, feeling care, but he felt it for L. He shouldn't. There had to be something wrong with him to have these feelings, these… interferences. Emotions only got in the way.

"Mr. Yagami, if you'll come with me." Came a voice from across the waiting room.

Light looked up, snapping out of his previous thoughts. This man must have been the doctor; he was of average height, average build, with salt-and-pepper hair, glasses pushed down on the bridge of his nose. He looked like a therapist. Light stood, casting one glance back at the orderlies that had brought him in before complying with the doctor and entering the office.

The doctor shut the door behind light and followed shortly, "Please, sit down." He said, taking his own seat. The office was nice; one brown, high-backed chair, with two lighter beige chairs across from it. The entire back wall was glass, looking out to a small garden. Bulletproof glass, Light theorized; what doctor working with the criminally insane would dare to put in that much glass and take no precaution?

The doctor positioned himself in the dark brown chair, "I'm Dr. Hikada, I'll be your therapist while you stay here, or for the most of your stay, anyway." He said, pushing his glasses up in his nose

Light settled into one of the beige chairs adjacent to the doctor, back straight, expression bare. Doctor Hikada paid no mind to his patient's silence, "Mr. Yagami, do you understand why you're here?" he asked, to which he received no reply. Light was going to push out on the silent treatment as long as he could. And those plans were working just fine until he heard a voice from beside him that, in no dimension, belonged to the doctor,

"If you don't answer his questions, you'll just be making it worse on yourself."

Light's head jerked around so fast it was amazing his nerves hadn't split at the very action. He knew that tone, that bland set of words, that blatancy at what was being said. No, it couldn't be. Light turned his head and, in the chair next to him, perched on two feet with his spine crouched over at an ungodly angle, was L.

Light screamed.

The man quickly scrambled over the arm of his chair, knocking himself down onto the floor. L didn't move. No, this wasn't real. L was dead, he'd ordered his death, he'd watched it himself! He'd attended the funeral! What was this? Doctor Hikada looked slightly alarmed, but not extremely so; in his line of work, these things were somewhat expected, "Mr. Yagami, are you alright?" he asked, arching a gray eyebrow

Light pointed a shaking hand past the knocked-over chair to the figure sitting in the other one, who simply sat as he always had, staring blankly, "H-Him! H-How'd he g-get here?!" he demanded, eyes wide with fear and panic. This had to be a joke, someone was messing with him. Ryuk, was that it? No, even Ryuk couldn't do this, could he?

Hikada pulled a legal pad from a table beside his chair, quickly jotting down a few notes, "Mr. Yagami, there's no one sitting in that chair. It's just you and I in this room." He stated calmly, leaning forward slightly.

Light screamed, an awful, screeching noise, "He's there! It's L! He should be dead!" he howled, to which L only sighed and hung his head,

"Really, Light, stop making a spectacle of yourself. You're increasing your chances of remaining in solitary confinement by ten percent with every outburst." The figure said, frowning deeply

Percentages. Everything was put into percentages, just like L had always done. Light shook his head; this wasn't L. It couldn't be, it was impossible. L of all people, who relied on logic for everything, couldn't be doing this. Even he wasn't this good. Light's attention returned to the doctor sitting across from him, "You have to see him! He's right there!"

Doctor Hikada hesitated for a moment before jotting a few more notes down on his pad, "Mr. Yagami, who are you seeing? Is this someone you've murdered?" he asked, though the latter portion of the question was laced with hesitation. Though Kira was no longer worshipped, he was still feared by many.

Light presented no answer to the doctor's questions, simple staring, mouth gaping, at the figure in the chair. The doctor sighed; this was going to be a difficult case, indeed. Though they still had approximately half an hour left in their session, with the state Light was in, Doctor Hikada saw it unfit to continue. Light was sent back to his solitary room, still shaking and screaming.

Doctor Hikada returned to his notes;

_Patient, Yagami Light, age 25. March 13, 2013. Session number 1. _

_Mr. Yagami refused to answer questions until suddenly going manic and claiming to see another man in the chair across from him. Patient refuses to answer questions pertaining to who the apparition is. Session was ended half hour early to Mr. Yagami's extremely stressed state and he was taken back to solitary confinement for another day. _

_Suspected signs of __**schizophrenia**__, too early to tell for sure. Further analysis will be conducted. _

He set the notepad aside, taking his glasses off and setting them on top of the pad. He'd agreed to take on the infamous Kira because not only had he wanted a challenge, but a chance to study one of the most famous serial killers eve documented in history. It looked like that was going to take its toll.

Back in his solitary room, Light sat on his mattress, curled up against the wall in a defensive shell, watching as L sat at the foot of his bed, chewing on a thumbnail as always. Light was going mad, he had to be. There was no other explanation for this phenomena. Light was scheduled for another therapy session the next morning, group session this time, but he had to live with the delusion sitting on his mattress until then.

Light's blood-curdling screams echoed down the halls all night.


	3. Hell's Newest Resident

Light didn't get any sleep that night. His throat eventually became dry and raspy from the excessive amount of screaming emanating from it and nothing audible was able to leave his lips from that point on. However, no matter how much or how loudly the man screamed, no nurses came to his aide. He was in solitary; the nurses weren't specifically instructed to ignore the current resident of that cell, they merely discounted three quarters of the calls and screams from it as shrieking of a madman and nothing more.

Throughout the night Ryuk remained static in his position in the corner of the room, adjacent to Light's mattress. Though he couldn't see Ryuk, the Shinigami was hatching a plan in his twisted head. He had overlooked the doctor as he wrote his notes the previous day; schizophrenia. Was that what they suspected of their precious Kira? Ryuk watched as Light screamed all night, claiming there was an apparition of L before him. Ryuk couldn't see the figure, obviously, but why not add to the fun?

Rip.

Out came a small, miniscule piece of a page from his own Death Note. This was going to be starting the mess all over again, but in a much more controlled manor this time. Oh yes, and much more entertaining to boot. Ryuk leaned forward, touching the scrap of paper to the man's shoulder. Light thought nothing of it at first, tired eyes still gazing upon the L crouched over the foot of his mattress. L said nothing, nor did he move. Dead eyes with black rings beneath them simply stared at Light, and they seemed to be tearing away at the very fabric of his soul. Light wished he could scream, but all that ability was spent.

Light turned his head a few degrees and that was all that it took to catch a glimpse of the gruesome Shinigami. Light went to scream but his aching throat prevented the action from continuing further. Ryuk said nothing; with any luck, Light would have no memory. He had relinquished ownership of the Death Note in the end, and even so, Ryuk had used his own Death Note, not the one which had been dropped into the mortal world in Light's high school days. Light regaining his memory would have been nearly impossible, but then again, Light had been the human to break all the expectations when he possessed his own Death Note just four months prior.

Light stared in awe and fear of creature before him, and though he looked vaguely familiar, it was a vastly tainted memory that brought no answers to Light's mind. In other words; the being before him was utterly strange and unfamiliar, and that was how Ryuk would have preferred it. The Shinigami spoke not a word to the mortal being before him, simply smiling, every wicked tooth showing in full, gleaming view within the dimly lit room. It made for an extremely unsettling image, even more so to Light, who already thought he was going mad because of the other apparition perched on his bed.

Light backed up against the wall, sliding clean off the mattress, " Who're you?! How did you get here?!" he demanded, though his voice—what little was left of it—came out hoarse and barely steady.

Ryuk didn't reply, simply taking a step closer, laughing. It was almost a victorious sound, but the fun was just beginning. L cocked his head ever so slightly, taking in the sign before him; neither apparition could see the other, but both could see Light's reaction to the other. It was entertaining for one, perplexing for the other, and to Light, it was just wearing his patience and the thin veil of sanity he still possessed down to the bare minimum before breakage, "Light? Is everything alright?" it asked, blinking twice.

Light's head snapped back in the direction of the human apparition, "M-Monster!" he coughed, pointing in the direction of Ryuk. Ryuk was still watching the man intently, wondering absently if there was any possibility of attaining an apple in this institution. It was at this point Light's door was opened and a single nurse walked in, instead of the two that had come to take him yesterday. This was a different nurse; she looked younger, with soft brown hair and kind eyes, and what could almost be taken as a smile,

"Mr. Yagami, I'm here to help you get ready for your group therapy session. Are you ready?" she asked, all the patience in the world accompanying her tone.

Light looked up, visibly shaking, eyes wide, lip quivering, "Y-Yes." He said, nodding quickly. Anything to get him out of this room and away from the two delusional figures occupying it alongside him.

The nurse smiled, "Good! I have some medication here for you, just a little something to calm your nerves before entering the group. Would you like a cup of coffee? Some tea, maybe?" she asked, extending her arms and offering a small white pill cup to the man, along with one slightly larger cup of water.

Light took the two cups from the woman, staring down at them for a few moments before throwing them at the wall, the pills scattering across the floor and the water splashing everywhere, "I don't need to calm down, I need them gone!" he shrieked, his voice faltering out near the end

The nurse was taken aback slightly by the outburst, "S-Sorry? Who do you need gone, Mr. Yagami?" she asked, voice still kind. She wasn't offended at his actions, nor was she frustrated; she was a genuine nurse, one that had all the patience in the world for the residents here. Though some caught her off guard at times, though she knew that was bound to happen here.

Light curled back up against the wall, knees to his chest in a defensive state, "Them! The black haired man and that... T-That monster!" he rasped coughing

The nurse looked around the room, obviously seeing no one, "Mr. Yagami, there's no one else here. If you won't take your pills, will you at least come with me? I have clean clothes for you, and if you would like, you have time for a bath." She said

Light jumped up, "I don't care, I don't care, just get me out of this room!"

The nurse nodded, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and leading him out of the room in the direction of the group showers down the hall, though the nurse had every intention of taking him to the secluded section where he wouldn't be bothered by other residents. Light was in no way ready to socialize with the general population.

As she lead him down the hallway, Light kept his head down for the most part, staring at the floor. When he looked over, he nearly jumped out of his skin; next to him was a pair of bare, pale feet underneath too-long jeans. Light looked up to see a slouched-over L matching his steps, not saying a word. This time Light didn't scream, he didn't jump, he didn't make a sound.

From tired eyes, a single tear rolled down his face. Light didn't cry often, or at all. He had cried when he needed to make it look convincing, when his father had died, when his sister had been kidnapped, but none of it was real. Light's head pounded, his body ached, his chest throbbed and the lump in his raw throat seemed to be growing by the second. He was a mess and going downhill at an alarming late.

All of this trouble, all of this insanity, all of this mess, caused by one single glance out the window in high school, just in time to watch a black notebook fall through the air and hit the dew-moistened grass down below. One glance that changed his entire life, his family's life, everything. Still, Light had no regrets, not even now, as he was facing insanity and a life of therapy sessions.

Ryuk followed about ten paces behind, laughing at the scene before him. Light pretended not to notice, though he knew it was foolish; just because he denied that there was any sound behind him didn't mean that it wasn't really there. He let the nurse lead him away, the shower was a blur, as was getting dressed, and by the time he got to the conference room, he was completely out of it, his only object of fixation being the two apparitions tailing him.

Light was sat down in a plastic chair among a group of about five others, only two filled so far. One by an extremely skinny, almost anorexic woman with stringy blonde hair that was matted in clumps around her face. She chewed on a fingernail, shaking in her seat. The other filled seat was occupied by a middle-aged man who was roughly thirty pounds overweight with a receding hairline. He said nothing, simply sitting there with a smile, one which seemed out of place here.

When Light was settled, the nurse walked away, giving him one last smile. There were orderlies much tougher than her stationed outside the doors watching the patients. When the nurse walked away from Light, the blonde woman looked up, "What're you in here for?" she asked, voice shaky. She looked like she was going through some sort of drug withdrawl.

The man across from her finally spoke up for the first time, "He's Kira." He said simply, the smile not leaving his face.

The woman's eyes went wide, "K-Kira?" she stammered, mouth gaping.

The man nodded, "That's him." He nodded, looking back to Light, "I'm Jun. That's Debura." He said taking the liberty of introducing the woman as well.

Light nodded, "I think you know who I am." He said tone almost bitter. He didn't want to talk to these people, he didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted these... beings to go away. He'd take whatever medication to get rid of them, he was on the brink of taking his own life if that's what it took. Light bounced his leg against the floor nervously, hanging his head in an attempt to relay the message that he wasn't really in the talkative mood.

Dr. Hikada walked up and took one of the chairs, sitting down with a legal pad. He surveyed the three people—aside from himself—sitting in the circle, out of the five that were expected to be there, "Well, I see some of us aren't here yet. I suppose we'll just have to wait on them. We have some time to spare as it is." He said, jotting the date at the top of his legal pad in the margin. The doctor looked up at Light, smiling, though it seemed artificial, "Welcome to group therapy." He said

Light scowled; the way things were now, the doctor might as well have said, _Welcome to Hell. _


End file.
